The Not-So-Greatest Show On Earth
by Erin T. Aardvark
Summary: Peter's nephew, Franky, is too sick to go to the circus, so the Monkees bring the circus to him.
1. Chapter 1

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: this story is heavily based on an episode of the 1980's cartoon "Popples" called "Backyard Bigtop."_

* * *

It was the afternoon of September twelfth. The Monkees were pacing around the Pad, trying to figure out what to do for Peter's nephew, Franky's, thirteenth birthday, which was on the sixteenth. So far, no one came up with anything.

"I'm at a loss here," Peter said. "I can't think of anything."

"What about throwing 'im a party?" Davy asked. "We could invite a couple of kids from school, and . . . ."

"No, that's out," Mike said. "The other kids parents will want it to be chaperoned by a responsible adult, and we don't exactly fit the bill."

"That, and he doesn't know too many kids yet," Peter said.

"I know!" Micky shouted, snapping his fingers. "The circus is in town. Maybe we could take him there."

"Don't you think Franky's a little old for the circus?" Davy asked.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked. "I'm twenty-one, and I love the circus!"

"I'm with Davy," Mike said. "I think he might've outgrown wantin' to go to a circus."

"Aw, come on, Mike!" Micky shouted. "You're never too old to go to the circus!"

"Besides, Franky's never been to one before," Peter said. "He might like it."

"We'd bettah ask him first," Davy said.

"Yeah, he'll be gettin' home from school any minute now," Mike said.

Just at that moment, Franky came through the door, dropped his backpack on the floor, sluggishly crossed the living room to the couch, and flopped down on it. He looked dead tired.

"Rough day, shotgun?" Mike asked.

"Meh," Franky said. Then he groaned, coughed, sniffled, and started rubbing his throat.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Micky asked.

"I don't feel so good," Franky said. "My throat is killing me!"

Peter then walked over to his nephew, and put his hand on his forehead.

"You do feel a little warm," he said.

"Let me see," Mike said, and he put his hand against the pre-teen's forehead. "Yeah, you're right, Pete, he does."

"I'll go get the thermometah," Davy said.

"I'll call the doctor," Micky said, and he walked over to the phone."

Mike then lifted Franky off the couch and started carrying him toward the downstairs bedroom that Peter shared with Davy. Since Franky came to live with the Monkees, he was sleeping on the couch.

"Come on, kiddo," Mike said. "You're goin' straight to bed."


	2. Chapter 2

Once Mike got Franky to bed, Davy found the thermometer, and slipped it under Franky's tongue.

"Ah you sure you won't mind sleeping on the couch, Petah?" Davy asked.

"Nah, I figure Franky'll be more comfortable in here," Peter said. "I'd hate to sleep on the couch if I were sick."

"Well, Dr. Lyon is on his way," Micky said, coming into the room. "How's the patient?"

"Well, he's definitely got a fever," Mike said, taking the thermometer out of Franky's mouth. "A hundred and one."

"Yeeeccchhhh," Franky groaned.

"Yeah, I hear ya, buddy," Micky said. "It's no fun getting sick."

The Monkees then left the room to allow Franky to get some sleep. Dr. Lyon arrived about twenty minutes later, and began an examination. Once he was finished, he walked out to the living room and confronted the Monkees.

"It's definitely the flu," he said. "There's a lot of it going around. Most likely he picked it up from one of his classmates."

"Exactly how bad is it?" Peter asked, starting to sound nervous.

"Not too bad," Dr. Lyon said. "It'll probably just last a week. Just make sure he gets plenty of rest, and plenty of liquids, and he'll be back on his feet in no time at all."

"Okay, thanks, doc," Mike said. And with that, Dr. Lyon left.

"I'd bettah staht moving my things to the upstairs bedroom," Davy said. "Just in case Franky's contagious."

For the entire week, the Monkees tried to do their usual routine, but it wasn't easy with a sick twelve-year-old around. There was a lot of coughing and sneezing going on, and it was driving the boys crazy, but they knew Franky couldn't help that. After three days, Franky was getting agitated about having to stay in bed. Peter and Micky moved the TV into the bedroom for him, but that didn't help much.

"I know it's no fun having to stay in bed, Franky, but it's for your own good," Peter said.

"Well, I just hope I'm done with this thing by tomorrow," Franky said.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Being sick on your birthday is a real drag."

"Hey, fellas," Micky said, coming into the room. "I've got a surprise for you!"

"What kind of surprise?" Peter asked. Micky smiled, and pulled five pieces of paper out of his pocket.

"It's great, it's terrific, it's the best show on Earth!" he sang.

"Micky, you got the circus tickets?" Davy asked. "I thought we weren't going to go through with that until we asked Franky if 'e even wanted to go first!"

"Yeah, I know," Micky said. "But, after being cooped up inside for a whole week, I figured Franky'd be up to anything that got him out of the house."

"Yeah man!" Franky shouted. "When are we going?"

"Tomorrow," Micky said. "For your birthday."

"Yyyyyyesssss!" Franky cheered. "Thanks, Micky!"

"Okay, okay," Mike said. "Break it up in here, fellas. If we're gonna go to the circus tomorrow, Franky's gotta be over the flu, and that means he needs rest."

Franky groaned, but he knew Mike was right.

However, the fickle finger of fate was against our boys. The next morning, Mike was on the phone with Dr. Lyon. Peter had taken Franky's temperature and he was still running a slight fever. And Franky didn't like the news one bit.

"What about the circus tickets?" he asked.

"I don't know, Franky," Peter said, shrugging. "We'll have to wait and see what the doctor says."

"Come on, cheer up, big guy," Micky said. "After all, it's your birthday!"

"Yeah, your thirteenth!" Davy shouted. "This is a pretty big deal, you know. You're officially a teenagah now!"

"Whoopee," Franky said, sarcastically. "It's my thirteenth birthday, and I'm sick in bed. What fun."

"Okay, doc, bye," Mike said. He hung up the phone, sighed, and walked into the bedroom. "Bad news, shotgun. Doc Lyon says you're gonna have to stay in bed today."

"But what about the circus?" Franky asked. "If I'm feeling better later, can we still go?"

"Sorry, kiddo," Mike said, shrugging, "but Doc Lyon said if you're not well enough to go to school, you're not well enough to go to the circus."

"Awwww, gee whiz!" Franky shouted.

"Yeah, I know it's a bummer, but we'll make it up to you," Mike said.

"No fair," Franky whined.

"Come on, now, stop pouting," Peter said. "At least you don't have to go to school on your birthday."

Franky didn't say anything. He just sulked. The Monkees decided to just let him sulk, figuring he'd get over this set back.

"He's taking this worse than I thought he would," Peter said.

"I don't blame him," Micky sighed. "It's rough having to celebrate your birthday stuck in bed."

"It's too bad," Davy said. "You sure we couldn't go, Mike? Even if 'e's feeling bettah latah, are you sure we couldn't take 'im to the circus?"

"Dr. Lyon said if he was feelin' better, he could get up and go outside for some air or somethin'," Mike said. "But he thought goin' to a circus would be a little too much."

"So what do we do now?" Peter asked.

The Monkees just sat there for several seconds, trying to think of something.

"Wait a minute, I have an idea!" Micky shouted, snapping his fingers.

"What is it, Mick?" Peter asked.

"If we can't take Franky to the circus, then we'll bring the circus to Franky!" Micky shouted.

"What?" Davy asked, as he, Mike, and Peter gave their bandmate a weird look.

"We'll put on our own circus for Franky," Micky said. "Right here!"

"Mick, I know our place is a three-ring circus in itself, but that's a little ridiculous!" Mike shouted. "How are we gonna do a circus here?"

"Yeah, Micky, there isn't enough room in 'ere," Davy said.

"There's plenty of room out on the beach," Micky said. "We'll set up a chair for Franky on the balcony, and do some circus acts for him on the beach! We've got plenty of props and costumes around. Come on, fellas, it'll be fun!"

"Well . . . ." Mike said, thinking it over. "Okay, we'll give it a try."

"Great!" Micky shouted. "Come on, everybody, let's go set up! We've got a lot of work to do!"


	3. Chapter 3

By three o' clock that afternoon, the boys had everything ready for their makeshift circus. All Peter had to do was get Franky to come out on the balcony.

"Hi Franky," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Franky said.

"Listen, if you're feeling up to it, I thought we'd set up a couple of chairs and go out and sit on the balcony for awhile."

"Yeah, why not? I gotta get outside before I start going stir crazy!"

Peter smiled, and handed Franky a robe. Then the two of them went outside to the balcony. Both of them sat down, but then Peter got up again shortly afterward.

"I'll be back," he said. "I think I left something down on the beach."

"Like what?" Franky asked. Peter didn't answer. He just raced down the balcony stairs. Suddenly, he heard a fanfare, and looked down on the beach. There was Micky, standing on what looked like a round stand, wearing a ringmaster's outfit, and holding a megaphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted. "And Franky McAlister, if you're listening!"

"What the heck?" Franky asked.

"Welcome to the Beachside Big Top!" Micky shouted. "It's the Monkees' two ring . . ."

With that, Davy and Mike came into the scene riding unicycles and carrying hula hoops over their heads. Peter joined them a minute later.

"Make that three ring . . . ." Micky said. Peter sort of rode around in circles, and finally ended up crashing out of sight.

"Nope," Micky said. "Two ring circus!"

Franky had to laugh at that one. After circling for awhile, Mike and Davy dropped the hula hoops, and rode their unicycles out of sight. Shortly afterward, Davy and Peter returned, carrying two poles that had a platform on the top of them.

"Our first act," Micky said, "is the amazing high wire act!"

There was no reaction. Micky looked off to the side, and tried again.

"The amazing high wire act!" he shouted, a little louder.

"Micky, we have a problem," Davy said. "We forgot the wire!"

"No problem," Mike said, taking a clothesline from out of nowhere. "I have somethin' that'll work."

Mike climbed up one of the platforms, and tied the clothesline to it. Then he started climbing down that one and ran to another one.

"The amazing high wire act!" Micky said again, as Mike was running across to the other platform. "Make that the amazingly _low_ clothesline act."

Mike climbed up the other tree and tied the rope around it. Then he gave Davy a signal. Davy opened an umbrella and began to walk across the clothesline.

"Like I said," Micky said. "The amazing high clothesline act!"

Franky laughed, and applauded as Davy finished walking across the rope. Peter was next. He was riding a unicycle across. Then, it was Mike's turn. He hopped across the rope on the pogo stick. He was halfway across it when he lost his balance and fell.

"Whoops!" he shouted. "Whoaaa!"

Luckily the boys had set up a net, just for this kind of emergency. Mike landed right into it, and everybody laughed. The Texan Monkee just shrugged.

"Our next act is sure to astound you," Micky said. "Ladies and gentlemen, I will now show you my ferocious lions!"

Micky cracked a whip, and Mike, Peter, and Davy appeared wearing lion costumes.

"Those are lions?" Franky asked.

"Of course they're lions!" Micky shouted. "What'd you think they were, aardvarks?"

"What's with the one on the end? Kinda small for a lion, isn't he?"

"He's been sick," Micky said. Davy glared at Micky for that remark.

"Anyway!" Micky shouted. "These lions are really ferocious! Just listen!"

"Rooooaaarrrr!" Peter shouted, standing up on the podium. But he ended up losing his balance, and falling over backwards.

"Okay," Micky said. "Fine. Let's try the next one."

Mike took a deep breath, and roared, only to wind up having a coughing fit.

"Forget it," he said, between coughs. "I'm done with this act."

"And finally, my last lion!" Micky shouted.

"Roar!" Davy shouted. Franky started cracking up. Davy's roar was the worst. It sounded like he wasn't even trying. Micky wasn't happy with this.

"Are you trying to make me look bad?" he hissed.

"I'll probably 'ate myself in the morning for this," Davy said. Then he roared exactly like a real lion, which scared Micky out of his gourd.

"Yaaaahhhh!" he shouted. He wound up losing his balance and falling over backwards. Franky was practically in hysterics.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Micky shouted, once he got his wits back. "Presenting the Amazing Nesmith!"

Franky applauded. Mike came out to the ring, wearing a tuxedo, cape, and top hat.

"Now for my first trick!" he shouted.

Mike took off his hat and actually rolled it down his arm. When it reached his hand, he flicked his wrist and the hat was airborne. He managed to catch it in his other hand.

"Show off," Davy said.

Mike reached into the hat, and pulled out a glass filled with some kind of purple liquid. Micky had conjured it up using his chemistry set.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Mike shouted. "That smells terrible!"

"You've gotta do it, Mike!" Micky hissed. Mike made a face and pinched his nose shut.

"I just hope it tastes better than it smells," he said, taking the glass.

Mike raised the glass to his lips, and swallowed the liquid. He immediately felt like spitting it out.

"Yeeeeccchhhh!" he shouted. "Ooh! That was terrible! It tastes worse than it smells!"

"Trust me," Micky said. "This is gonna be a great trick."

Mike shook his head, and suddenly, turned red, literally. Micky's goop was a color changing potion. After that, Mike changed from blue to green to purple. As a finale in the colors, he became striped. Davy cracked up. Mike did not appreciate being laughed at, so he snapped his fingers. The short, British Monkee was now covered in polka-dots.

"Auuugghhh!" he cried as he fled from the scene. Everyone laughed at that, and Mike changed back to normal.

"Whew!" he shouted. "Okay for my finale, I need a volunteer from the audience! Ah yes, the young man with the blond hair!"

"Me?!" Peter asked, looking around. "But . . . . but . . . but . . . ."

"You are getting sleepy!" Mike shouted, in somewhat of a sing-song voice

"Mike, come on," Peter said, with a slight chuckle. "You're not a hypnotist. You can't just-"

Suddenly, in mid-sentence, Peter dropped off to sleep. Mike raised his hands into the air, and Peter was lifted off the ground. It was the old levitation bit.

"Wow!" Franky shouted.

Mike took a couple of bows. Peter woke up in the middle of it and looked up toward the platform. Davy was turning some sort of wheel. The levitation trick definitely was a trick! Somehow or another, Peter had invisible string tied around him and Davy was pulling him up.

"Davy!" he shouted

"Shhh!" Davy hissed.

"Come on, Davy, get me out of this!" Peter shouted.

"It wasn't my idea," Davy said, backing away. "Hey, don't push! Wait a minute! Look out below!"

"Whooaaaaaa!" both he and Peter shouted as they fell off the platform. They sort of stopped in mid-fall, as they were tangled in the invisible wire. They hung in the air like marionettes. Franky cracked up. Mike groaned, and pulled his top hat down over his eyes.

"How humiliating!" he shouted, running off. Micky laughed a little himself and stepped into the ring.

"And now, presenting the flying Mozerelli Brothers!" he shouted, indicating the two platforms, which now had trapezes on them.

Davy and Peter had managed to untangle themselves from the fishing wire and went into their act. The two of them swung back and forth on the trapezes, but they didn't try to catch each other. They were just swinging, flipping over the bar. Davy did a somersault and was now hanging by his knees. Peter jumped off his trapeze and grabbed Davy's hands. The two of them swung back and forth. Then he grabbed his own trapeze with his feet. The two of them began swinging back and forth again, and then, they let go of their trapezes, and smacked right into each other.

"Ow!" Davy shouted.

"Watch it!" Peter cried. The two of them fell into the net, and actually bounced back up to the trapezes. They were hanging onto them by the hands and crashed into each other again, and into the poles.

"Ahhh!" they cried.

"Uhhh, okay," Micky said. "Why don't we, uhh, send in the clowns!"

"Good idea," Mike said. "Sit tight, Franky. We'll be right back."

Franky was already too far gone. He was laughing hysterically at the Monkees antics. He couldn't wait to see what was going to happen next.


	4. Chapter 4

The Monkees ran out onto the beach dressed like clowns. It was a basic pie fight, seltzer squirting, water balloon throwing type of thing. This was practically the only act that was going right. Finally, Micky stood up on his circus podium.

"And now!" he shouted. "The grand finale!"

The grand finale included Peter dressed as a cowboy tied to a stake. Mike and Davy were dressed like Indians, beating on drums, and dancing around the stake. Micky entered the scene, dressed as a cowboy on a horse, and blowing a trumpet, as the cavalry. Suddenly, he stopped when he saw what Davy and Mike were doing.

"Wait a minute!" he shouted. "That's not a war dance! That's a rain dance!"

Davy and Mike stopped immediately and looked at the sky. Dark gray clouds loomed overhead, and then it started to rain. The Monkees began running around like crazy. Since they were all running in different directions, Davy and Micky collided, as did Peter and Mike. Franky was in complete hysterics. He couldn't stop laughing. Finally, the Monkees pulled themselves together, and managed to get inside. Franky followed them. Since the balcony had an awning, he didn't get soaked like the four Monkees did.

"Boy, that was better than the real circus could've been!" he shouted.

"Ah-choo!" Davy sneezed. "Glad you liked it."

"Yeah," Mike said, sounding a little stuffed up. "Unfortunately, I think the four of us caught colds after gettin' caught in the rain."

"Don't worry you guys," Franky said. "I'll be right back!"

Franky ran upstairs. The Monkees looked at each other and shrugged, and then practically collapsed on the couch.

"At least he's feeling better," Peter said.

"Great," Mike said, somewhat sarcastically. "Just as he gets over the flu, we wind up catchin' colds!"

"Yeah, I feel lousy!" Micky shouted.

"'Ave we got any Aspirin?" Davy asked.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Franky shouted from upstairs. "And Monkees, if you're listening!"

The Monkees looked up, and saw Franky standing at the top of the stairs wearing a ringmaster's outfit and holding three tennis balls in his hands.

"Presenting the world's worst juggling act!" he shouted. Franky threw the tennis balls into the air, trying to juggle them, but they fell to the floor and bounced down the stairs. What else could the Monkees do but laugh?

The End


End file.
